Darkest before Dawn
by SiverWrites
Summary: 'Tonight was different. Tonight was the last night he would make that promise. One way or another. It would only be one way.' It's Cabanela's last night to save Jowd. It should have been a night of victory not one of repeated tragedy. Pre-game first timeline. Spoilers.


Five long years. The final night had arrived at last. With one hand cupped around his mug, Inspector Cabanela stared out the office window in an oddly pensive mood after the flurry of meetings, reports and calls. It was dark and a chilly winter rain pattered against the glass. Preparations were going well at Point X. Everything was coming together. There would still be plenty to do after: a father and daughter to be reunited; talks to be had – never do anything like this again; a wife to visit – he promised her he wouldn't come alone next time. Five years of absence to make up for.

For now there were plans to put into action, plans to put a halt to, and a manipulator to catch. Cabanela swung himself off his chair, drained the last of his coffee and proceeded to leave the office. He paused by the desk across from his own giving it the silent promise he made every working day for the past five years. Tonight was different. Tonight was the last night he would make that promise. One way or another.

It would only be one way.

He scooped up his umbrella giving it an idle twirl and was about to spring out of the office when his phone rang summoning him back.

He leaned against his desk nearly sitting on it. "Inspector Cabanela here."

"Sir! Officer Brennan from the homicide unit. I'm calling from that old junkyard outside of town. I was told to inform Special Investigations. There's been a double homicide, I-I think. And erm…"

"You thiiink?"

"Uh…we've got a security tape showing a third, well probably the first, but… but the body's nowhere to be found."

Cabanela frowned. The junkyard… "I'll send some of the boooys." And make another call. Make sure he was safe.

"It's Detective Lynne, sir!" Brennan burst out. "She was on the tape, the shooter I mean. She shot a man. And it's even worse than that. We couldn't find the man's body, but Lynne is, she's, she's dead. Detective Lynne is dead."

Cabanela jumped away from the desk. The umbrella slipped from his grasp with a clatter.

"What!? I'm on my way." He started to hang up when a thought nudged him. "Wait! Double? Who was the other victim?"

"A-ah, yes," Brennan replied nervously. "We wanted to review the security cameras, so we went to speak with the Superintendent. We found him in the maintenance building…"

 _No._

"…in the basement."

 _No._

"Dead as well, sir. There was a lot of weird stuff around too. You'll want to see it yourself."

"I'll be there immediately. Don't touch _anything_!"

"Y-yes sir!"

Cabanela dropped the phone into its cradle. It couldn't be. They couldn't be.

He spun on his heel, rushed out of his office, paid no heed to the startled looks he got as he flew past, and flung himself at his bicycle.

The rain petered out by the time Cabanela arrived at the junkyard. Umbrella forgotten in his haste to leave, he was soaked, but hardly noticed. He threw himself off his bicycle showering the waiting officer in droplets.

The officer backed up a step and gave an awkward salute. "They're down below… sir…" but trailed off as Cabanela was already rushing away.

"Inspector Cabanela!" A detective in green greeted him as Cabanela reached the bottom of the junkyard stairs. "Detective Lynne is in the back there."

Cabanela brushed by the detective. Lynne's body lay among the rubbish. Another detective, blue suit, stood by and a medical examiner was going over her body. Cabanela frowned. The examiner was using a stethoscope – hardly necessary for a clearly dead body – and his movements in general seemed haphazard.

"Excuuuse me, gentlemen. If you could step aside and let me examine the scene."

The examiner huffed through his thick mustache. "Not much to see here. Clear shot to the chest." He shrugged and walked with the detective to a spot a few feet away.

Cabanela dropped down beside Lynne. Blood stained her shirt. Her new detective's badge was splattered with it.

"Lyyynne, how could I let this happen you?"

What was she doing here of all places? What was he going to tell Him? Her eyes were still open in a wide, glassy stare, but held no answers. He slowly reached out and gently closed them before letting his hand fall to hold her shoulder. His face dropped into his free hand and he took a shaky breath.

Why? Who? On this night of all nights?

This night… What _was_ she doing here? He gave her a piercing stare. A glance back told him the detectives were absorbed in conversation and the doctor was paying no attention to him or Lynne. He slipped a hand into her coat pocket.

He pulled out a pink book he recognised as her notebook. He flipped it open and paged through it until he reached a note for today's date. Three things were written: 'junkyard meeting' followed by 'call him' and below that was a scrawled note 'tell him the good news?' He could almost feel the desperate hope written into the statement. _Me too, baby, me too._ He flipped back to a spot near the start of the book and found the phone number he expected – the special prison. The page was worn and dog eared.

A flash of white on the ground caught his eye. A piece of crumpled paper must have fallen out when he pulled out the book.

"What's thiiis?"

He smoothed the paper out. Only a small note was written on it: Chicken Kitchen, 10:00. Cabanela stared at it in shock. It wasn't her writing, but to possess anything with that place and that time!

"Lynne, what were you doing, baby?"

Their plans were top secret. How could she have come by any information pertaining to them? Had this come from whoever she was supposed to meet? Who could have known? He pocketed the book and note. It couldn't be a coincidence. He knew her interest in Jowd's case as well; her notebook reinforced that knowledge. Just how much did she figure out? They'd taught her too well. Clever woman, he should have kept a closer eye on her, kept her safe from this mess.

He couldn't stay here. There was still, gods there was still another body to check on and a third one missing. He drew in a steady breath before standing up with a last look at her.

"I will find out who did this to you."

The doctor and detective returned as he started to leave. He stopped by the green detective.

"Keep an eye on that doctor for me, will you? Don't let him leave until I've had a chance to talk to him."

"Yes, sir!"

Cabanela hurried back to the upper level. Maintenance office next. A dead body in the basement. Only he and the Prof had any business down there. He swallowed his rising dread and pushed the maintenance office door open. Inside two officers snapped to attention.

"Sir! We've got the security tape here and left the basement for you as requested."

"Gooood, good. You just hold onto that tape until I come back up. So, through that door over there?"

"Yes, sir!"

Cabanela made his way across the room until he reached the desk against the wall. He froze as the chill of the familiar becoming unfamiliar ran through him. The desk normally littered with notes and various 'science-y' things was bare as was the wall. He whirled around.

"You didn't touch aaanything?"

The officers exchanged puzzled glances. "No, sir! Is something wrong?"

"…No. I'll be back up shortly."

Cabanela pushed through the door and down the stairs. The basement's door was open spilling light into the small hall. The room within was a mess.

Someone, the killer he could only assume, had dismantled the contraption. He immediately looked up to the wall. The gun was gone.

Cabanela picked his way carefully across the room.

Dismantled was the wrong word; destroyed was the word he wanted. The candle-holding doll was on the floor and the candle had rolled away. The box that had contained the Cupid lay broken open while the cupid and its bow lay in pieces around it. The device he knew lifted the rope was on its side; he didn't see the rope anywhere – burned up possibly. Confetti was strewn about the place: the party popper must have been set off. The bottles on the shelf were broken littering glass across it and the floor. The present box had been torn and flattened.

It was no wonder the officer had sounded confused on the phone. Seeing this no one would know what it was all meant to be.

The worst of it all lay by the table.

"Professor…" Cabanela breathed out.

The professor lay in a sprawl on the floor, his lab coat stained red. His glasses were shattered beside him. Shot in the chest, same as Lynne.

It had only been a year, however their shared purpose brought them together and despite their many differences they had forged an odd bond: one Cabanela had come to rely on over the past year.

A black tide of raging bitterness threatened to crash in. This man, this knowledgeable smart man who was one of the only people to know what was going on, who was so incredibly valuable, _His_ friend. Gone. Gone and no one else would know what they lost this night. He had just been some odd old superintendent to anyone else.

He clenched his fists. And someone, someone had come to this place where they worked together, shared stories of the past, traded information, this place that was his refuge only a month ago when he received the news of the execution order. This man murdered and their work destroyed.

A soft cooing sound pulled Cabanela out of his spiralling thoughts. He stared frantically around the room until he spotted a flash of blue caught between the shovel and a fallen toolbox. He hurried over and pulled away the shovel.

"Lovey-Dove," he said softly.

The pigeon came out slowly looking distinctly ruffled, but all right as far as he could tell.

"Heeey, good to see you're okay."

She gave him an appreciative sounding chirp before walking over to the professor. She nudged at his hair with her beak once then more insistently when there was no response.

Cabanela bowed his head. What had he missed? No one else should have known about the prof's research. They'd kept their secrets well or so he thought. Was there more he could have done to protect him? He could almost hear the Prof scoff at his thoughts. He hadn't been one to dwell on pointless what-ifs and should-haves.

Cabanela lifted his head at a distraught sound from Lovey. He went straight to her and knelt down while lifting his scarf.

"Come on. It's too dangerous for you here now."

Lovey-Dove flew up to settle on his shoulder. He let his scarf down so it draped over her. She cooed gently once in his ear.

He made a last sweep of the room. He only found what wasn't there – the gun and the Temsik research. Someone didn't want anything to do with the incident or the meteorite found. That much was obvious, but it didn't leave him much to work with. With his search complete Cabanela nodded to the professor bidding him a silent farewell before bracing himself to return upstairs.

When Cabanela returned upstairs the officers were sitting around the security monitor.

"Is that the security tape from toniiight?" Cabanela asked.

"Yes, sir! We've got it set up for you. Here you go."

The screen flickered to life. He watched Lynne walk in looking about her. A moment later a man in a suit carrying a case entered the scene. A very familiar man. That suit. The hairstyle. The dark glasses…

He blinked as memories from ten years past flooded him.

 _"Detective, I'm telling ya! I don't know anything about it!"_

 _Jowd at a standoff in the park._

 _The prisoner killed in a freak accident._

 _"He had this," His own gun tossed at him._

Him.

 _"I couldn't do the autopsy. Every cut I made healed. Then he was gone as though he walked right out the door."_

 _"And thaaat's when you started investigating Temsik?"_

Him.

He watched as the man and Lynne seemed to exchange words. Lynne looked surprised. The man leaned back against the fence. He watched as Lynne took out her gun and fired. Twice. He frowned.

"Go back a step."

The officer rewound the tape. Cabanela watched carefully. Something was off. Lynne almost seemed to struggle with her gun. Was it only nerves or more? It had to be more. She wouldn't just shoot someone no matter what was said. However, with Lynne gone there were no answers and…

"There was no other body found?" Cabanela asked.

"No sir. Only Detective Lynne and the superintendent. There was no sign of another body, not even any traces of blood. We're not sure what to make of it to be honest."

"I seeee. I'll take custody of this tape."

"Yes sir!" The tape was removed and the officer passed it to Cabanela with a look of relief. Eager to let SIU take care of it eh? Suits me just fine boys.

"You can send in the forensics team now. Send copies of aaall reports to my desk."

Cabanela left the maintenance building. Once out and alone he felt the anger bubble up again. That man here on this night. A missing body. All traces of their Temsik research wiped out. A deal with that country. 'Powers not of this world.' What if…? All of this had to be connected.

That doctor looked to be from their country. He was a fake; Cabanela was sure of it. What was he doing here? What did _he_ know?

Cabanela returned to the lower area of the junkyard. He barely noticed the detectives as he marched past them anger propelling every step. His gaze was fixed on one man only. The doctor stood near Lynne's body looking perturbed.

"Am I allowed to go now?" he grumbled.

His annoyance quickly turned to shock as the Inspector grabbed the front of his shirt and forced him back against a broken couch.

"Inspector Cabanela, what?!" the detective in blue protested. Lovey-Dove gave an alarmed coo and flew off to land by an old red lamp. He ignored them both.

"Who sent you?" he hissed at the doctor.

"I don't know what you're talking about. The police called me. I am a doctor."

"You're a bad liar and an even worse fake." He gripped his shirt harder. "Who are you? Were you involved in their deaths?"

"No!"

Cabanela slammed his fist into the couch by the Doctor's head. "No lies! Tell me everything!"

"I didn't kill them!" the doctor gasped out. "I was part of a plan that didn't happen, clean up duty! That's it."

"What plan?"

"Did you see the security footage? I was supposed to smuggle out his body. That's it! I don't know the details! It was supposed to be a simple job for easy money, but they changed his plan and killed the detective and told me to monitor things here."

"Who is he?"

"I only know his name. Sissel. There's some kind of top-secret deal – I don't know what it is, but they're helping each other."

Sissel… that was the wrong name but the deal - that could only mean one thing… "Where did they go?" Cabanela growled.

The doctor cringed. "I don't know. I swear!" he quickly added when Cabanela's face darkened.

"Inspector Cabanela!" The green detective hurried over. "We just got a call. The Chief wants you back at his office urgently."

Cabanela barely restrained a snarl and released the doctor who fell back against the sofa.

"Arrest this man."

"On what charges?" the 'doctor' protested looking a little braver now that he was released. He struggled to regain his balance against the broken couch, but quailed under Cabanela's fierce glare.

"Impersonating a medical practitioner and obstructing a crime scene," Cabanela snapped. "If you don't submit I'm sure I can come up with a whooole lot of other things to make your life a living hell."

He rounded on the detectives.

"I want all reports of this incident sent to Special Investigations," he ordered.

"Yes, sir!"

With a snap of her wings in the direction of the doctor that caused another wince from the shaken man, Lovey-Dove returned to Cabanela's shoulder before he stormed away. By the time they reached his bicycle some of his rage had dissipated into tension of a different sort. What did the Chief want now?

The few officers left at the station looked up at Cabanela's entrance. An eyebrow was raised at the bird on his shoulder, but one look at the Inspector's expression prevented any comment. Cabanela swept past them into the Chief's office.

The Chief looked up gravely from his desk.

"So it's true," he said with one look at Cabanela's tight expression. "Detective Lynne is dead, but I've also received a report that she shot a man?"

Cabanela tossed the security tape on his desk. "According to this, but no body was found. I can't be sure but I have reason to believe the man in that tape may be our Manipulator."

The Chief looked surprised. "I'll review the tape shortly. However," he hesitated, "there is another matter I needed to speak with you about. Lynne was looking after a young girl, Jowd's daughter, Kamila, right?"

Gods yes, the poor girl. "She was… I'll make arrangements for her," Cabanela replied softly. He'd figure out something, take her himself. It wouldn't have to be for long; her father would be returned to her soon.

The Chief heaved a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry. That won't be necessary. There's no easy way to say this… We received a call from the neighbour reporting gunshots. Kamila was shot. She didn't make it."

Cabanela jerked back. No. No, not again, not her too.

"How? When did this happen?" he choked out.

"I called for you as soon as we confirmed the situation."

"The shooter?"

"Unknown. The investigation is underway," the Chief replied. He folded his hands. His gaze flickered to the radio and back to Cabanela.

"What do you plan to do now, Inspector? Will you go to Point X? Given everything that's happened tonight I'd advise standing this one down. Oversee. Take in reports. The Unit should have things in hand."

Cabanela stiffened. "No, not there or here. There's somewhere else I have to be."

"You don't have to be there," the Chief frowned. "After everything that's happened tonight, why put yourself through that as well?"

"…I have a responsibility. I have to do this _because_ of everything that's happened. Besides it's not over, not yet."

"You're right about that. There's no stopping you, eh?"

Cabanela gave him a tight lipped smile that was closer to a grimace. "You knooow me, Chief."

"Do what you must then, but be careful, Inspector. There's more going on than we know. I don't want to see another murder case."

Cabanela turned away, but before he left the room he stopped and looked back. "I have a small favour." He gestured to Lovey-Dove. "I'm dropping this little one off at home. If you don't hear from me by morning can you send someone to check on her for me?"

"And can I ask _why_ …?" the Chief started to ask.

"No time, Chief."

 _"_ Of course. I'll send someone along if necessary. Don't make it necessary."

Cabanela left the station in a daze. He noticed nothing around him as he automatically travelled the well-known route to home, unlocked his door and stumbled inside. He went straight to his small living room. It wasn't until his gaze fell on his shelf, on the pictures it held, that all that happened flooded him. He sunk onto his narrow sofa, eyes fixed on the pictures.

Alma and Jowd stared out from their frame smiling at him while he himself stood between them, arms slung around their shoulders. Another picture stood beside it: the pair on their sofa with little baby Kamila nestled in Alma's arms. Jowd had an arm around them both with an expression of pride and bemusement as though he couldn't quite believe that this little girl was his. _'Neither can I, baby. She's too pretty! Are you suuure she's yours?'_

Cabanela swallowed. Gods, Kamila. A terrible fate for a girl so young. Shot down in her own home. She, of all people, should have been safe! All plans for a triumphant reunion shattered. He knew without Alma things would never be the same, but he'd been determined to bring things back to whatever normality he could pull together. They'd be a family again. Now this. Student lost. Old friend lost. Daughter… lost…

He scraped a hand over his face and tried to ignore the pricking in his eyes. His hand stopped at his mouth covering it as if to block every threatening feeling attempting to escape. Not yet. Later, when this was finished. When he was freed and they could face this all together. It would be hard. This was not the future he dreamed of. They would have each other; that was something. They would get through it somehow. In some way. In time…

 _I'll take care of everything, old friend_

His clock's ticking grew loud in his ears pulling him out of his thoughts. Time was passing. He failed Jowd three times; he wasn't going to let a fourth happen. He had to go.

He gently lifted Lovey-Dove from his shoulder and set her on the sofa.

"I'll be back later, Lovey."

She gave him a disgruntled sounding coo and rustled her wings at him.

"You survived once already tonight. I'm not risking you a second time." He gave her head a soothing stroke for her, and if he was honest, just as much for himself. "Stay safe for me."

The clouds had parted and the moon hung large in the sky. The prison courtyard was bathed in a silvery glow, but it did nothing for the ugly and looming presence of the Special Prison.

It was time. Five years later with time running out he was going to meet with Jowd and… and his thoughts faltered. And what? Stall if the expected call from Point X hadn't come in yet. And tell him… the images of Lynne and the professor's bodies swam in his mind's eye. 'Kamila was shot…' Tell him what…? He would just have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

He entered the building and immediately knew something was wrong. The officer at the desk jumped at his entrance. The man's face took on an anxious look. Cabanela thought he could hear an alarm at the edge of his hearing.

"Inspector Cabanela! We tried to contact you, but we must have missed you."

"Whaaat's going on?"

The officer shifted nervously. "There was an explosion. The power is out down there."

"What happened?" Cabanela demanded.

"We're not sure of anything yet... It sounds like the chair exploded when they tried to test it."

Cabanela tensed but a small bubble of hope dared to rise. If the chair was a wreck they couldn't very well hold an execution with it. This could be exactly the stall tactic he needed. Unless…

"And D-99?"

The officer looked even more uncomfortable. "He was caught in the explosion and killed. I suppose in the end it was all the same result-er…" he swallowed at the look on Cabanela's face.

Killed. His mind seemed to go blank except for one thought blazing across it. "I need to see him."

"You can't! It's a mess down there. We've got guards patrolling for the prisoners. With the cell doors open they could easily escape now. It's too dangerous!"

Cabanela took a step forward. The guard stepped back toward the door shaking his head rapidly.

"I'm sorry, Inspector, we can't let you through." He gulped. "It's regulations. For your own safety, please."

"I'll be fine! Let me through!" Cabanela roared.

The guard winced but held firm. "I can't do that, sir."

"If you value your job you will move!"

The guard swallowed. "I'm sorry, sir, this _is_ my job. Please you must leave."

Cabanela jerked forward not even sure himself what he would do when he met the guard's pale but determined face. He was right. Gods damn it all he was right. He stopped and straightened. He would only be in the way down there and for what? Another dead body? A tremor passed through him and he took a deep breath.

"Call the station when everything is cleared up," he said tightly.

Before the officer could respond Cabanela had already turned away and left for the exit.

Out in the courtyard Cabanela stopped dead in the middle of the courtyard. It was over. He was too late. Careful preparations for nothing. He felt cheated. There had still been time. How could he be taken by a damned accident?

What went wrong? Only a few hours ago he had been brimming with optimism. Of course he'd make it. Of course they'd succeed. It was going to be close, but they'd do it. Failure was out of the question.

He failed in every possible way this night.

Everything came crashing down around him worse than he ever imagined.

He couldn't move, couldn't bring himself to leave or turn back. His eyes stung and this time he couldn't stop the hot trails left by tears he could no longer hold back.

After an uncertain amount of time passed he rubbed a shaky hand over his eyes. He couldn't stay here. He dragged himself around to face the prison intending to send a last farewell and an apology that would never be enough when his eyes fell on a phone near the wall.

Maybe… If they caught him he could still do something. If not, there could still be a chance to track him down. He wouldn't, couldn't let that man, that brilliant detective, his best friend be remembered as the murderer of his wife. It was unthinkable. It was too late to save Jowd's life, but he could still save who he had been. He would drag the truth into the light.

The thought alone propelled him to the phone. He dialed the number.

"Hello? We're not taking any orders right now!" Came a frantic voice over the line.

"Is this the Chicken Kitchen?"

"Yes but we're closed! It's a mess!"

"This is Inspector Cabanela of the Special Investigation Unit. I need to..." He was interrupted.

"You people! Guns and shooting and my customers scared away. What am I going to do? Whatever shall happen to my beautiful chicken?"

"Listen," Cabanela cut in, "I need to speak with Detective Rindge. Get him on the line now!"

"O-okay! I'll find him! Please don't yell," the man stammered.

Cabanela waited tensely.

"Detective Rindge here."

"What happened?"

"I'm sorry Inspector. He showed up but they must have realised what we were doing or they caught on fast. We had them surrounded then one of our own turned on us. The Manipulator, he must have done…whatever it is he does. Thankfully no one was killed but we have some serious injuries."

"What happened to the Manipulator?"

"He got away in the chaos. We did manage to catch his co-conspirators. They're being questioned but refuse to talk."

"I see. Wait for me. I'll be there shortly and we'll figure out our next move."

"Yes sir."

He hung up, his head bowed. Anger and despair warred at the numb edges of his mind, but both were frayed by exhaustion. The fire that fueled him all night, that fueled him for five years, burnt out with Jowd's death. There were still steps to take. It didn't feel like much, but it was something to hold onto, for just a little longer.

"Looking for someone?" A voice said behind him.

Cabanela whirled around with a short startled hop back into the phone. "You..!"

A man in a red suit stepped out from the darkness. One hand rested casually in his pocket. The other held a gun pointed at him.

"Yomiel."

"In the flesh." Yomiel gave a twisted grin. "For now."

This man shot by Lynne. This man killed by a meteorite ten years in the past. Powers not of this world. Ye gods...

"I saw you in the junkyard tape. It was you all along." Cabanela said.

"Finally figured it out, huh?"

Rage burned through the blank static that occupied his mind.

"Tonight. It was all you. They're all dead because of you,"Cabanela snarled.

"No, Inspector. Because of you." Yomiel's face contorted in anger. He suddenly lunged forward. His arm slammed into Cabenala's chest pinning him awkwardly against the phone box.

"You murdered me. All of you! If Jowd hadn't chased me. If that girl hadn't been there. If you hadn't done that; if you hadn't left your gun I never would have had it to take the girl hostage. _You_ created me!"

"I know my mistakes," Cabanela said flatly. "You can't pin yours on us."

Yomiel's face became expressionless. "It doesn't matter now. You're the only one left," he said calmly.

"I thought you'd be at that restaurant, but you never showed. Then I wondered: just how obsessed are you? And here you are. You just had to see that last blot on your spotless record wiped clean, didn't you? Your crowning achievement," he spat before shaking his head with a shrug. "Too bad for you there's a stain left. I'm still stuck in this gods-forsaken world."

He pressed the gun into Cabanela's chest over his heart.

Two men locked together. One dead and one who lost everything. It was almost funny really. Five years chasing a dead man who instead found him. Here where he needed him but late, too late. He could imagine Jowd laughing at the irony of the situation. He could have joined in that laugh if the weight in his chest wasn't so heavy. He lost.

He lost.

But he wouldn't give in.

His hand shot out and latched around Yomiel's wrist. He wrenched it up and away. Yomiel's mouth opened in surprise. The gun fired into the air. Yomiel's surprise turned to annoyance before sliding into a grin.

"Fine. I have a better idea. After all who better to reveal your true colours? Red stains on that spotless white coat." The gun dropped. Yomiel went limp.

Cabanela tried to move but his limbs had gone rigid. His hand, no longer in his control, slipped into his coat.

His gun at his chest. His finger locked on the trigger.

End it.

No.

End it all.

No.

His legs buckled. A force pulled at him threatening to bring him to his knees. He braced himself against the phone shaking slightly with the effort. He would not submit.

He was frozen, locked in a battle with his own body.

A battle he couldn't truly win.

A blinding pain. A flash of red.

The moon shone down creating a silvery tableau. One man stood unfolding himself to stare down at the crumpled form at his feet. The dance was over. The coat seemed to gleam in the dark creating a stark contrast between white and red.

Last one down. Yomiel turned on his heel with a half wave and disappeared into the darkness.

In another time a little flame watched on as the pointy haired man ran into the park. He watched the large man with the big beard give chase. He saw the running man grab the little girl who was to be his future mistress. He saw the flash of blinding light.

Again and again.

His wait began.


End file.
